Chapter Four: House Brew

The day of the local high school prom was Soul's second busiest day of the year. He could therefore justify to himself taking the entire next day off to go see his brother's family. He got up earlier than he'd ever imagined possible, wrote a note that said he was closed for the day, and stuck it on the door with the last, measly piece of florist's tape on the cardboard ring.

It fell off just as soon as he closed the door. Soul groaned, but didn't bother trying to fix it. The open/closed sign was flipped to closed, did people really need a note?

Soul always closed the shop the day after prom and the fifteenth of February, partially because he was usually exhausted, the energy he stored up for dealing with customers drained away and mostly because he was usually completely out of stock. He'd have to close for the whole weekend; the stockist wouldn't deliver until Monday anyway.

Not that he was complaining about his first weekend in months.

He'd drive up to Vegas and visit his idiot brother and his wife, and their son Joel and those two other kids they had that hadn't developed enough personality yet for Soul to bother with. They were cute alright, but all they did was squawk and sleep and shit a disproportionate amount, considering how much they ate.

It'd be fun.

Soul groaned again, locked the doors to the shop and jingled the keys to his van. The fucking van. He hated the van, but you couldn't deliver flowers on the back of a motorcycle. It was convenient. And practical. And meant he was the guy you called if you were moving.

Black Star yelled at him from where he was painting Maka's storefront- the guy was smiling so wide, Soul could see his molars from here. Why was Black Star awake so early? He was too people hungover for this and maybe a little actually hungover, seeing as he'd had a bottle of wine to celebrate last night. Alone.

Soul trudged down the street, shrugging out of his leather jacket. While he could normally last the stretch between his air-conditioned shop and the climate controlled van, the distance between his door and Maka's store front was a bit more then he was prepared for.

"Brotective!" Black Star waved the paintbrush in his hand, excited. Flecks of paint splattered on his face. The ladder wobbled and Soul rushed to steady it, but Black Star adjusted his balance to right it himself. "Going to see the fam?"

"Yeah," Soul never went anywhere else, unless you counted his annual pilgrimage to the San Francisco Flower and Garden Show, which Black Star didn't, because in his words it was 'like Comic-Con for flower nerds.' "Promised Wes I'd visit Joel."

"How's little Pianoman doing these days?"

Soul shrugged - he hadn't seen Joel in a few weeks. "I'll know when I see him. I'll tell him you were asking though."

"He still into those lame ass books?"

Shit. He'd completely forgotten trying to convince a man he'd once spat coffee all over to sign a book for his nephew. He didn't even have a book to get signed. Getting an audiobook signed seemed like a stupid idea. Especially since his were digital. What was he supposed to do? Get his iPhone signed? Give away his iPhone?

He loved Joel, but not that much.

"Where's Maka?" Soul said, cutting off Black Star.

"Inside," Black Star looked at his handy work and nodded with satisfaction. "Why?"

"Just going to say hi," Soul waved his hand dismissively, trying to appear nonchalant.

"A'right, go get her," Black Star said, "Don't worry bro, she thinks you're a hot piece of ass!"

Soul didn't think it was possible to burn a bright shade of red, yet there Maka was burning with an equal shade of embarrassment and bristling with rage. Murderous rage, that Soul felt in no way obligated to pacify. If Black Star died as a result of his own idiocy, that was his fault.

And it was likely that would be Black Star cause of death.

"Hey," Soul said, looking at the empty bookshelves to avoid meeting her gaze. The IKEA ones were lined at the back with various wallpaper prints. The Little Grey Cat from before wound its way around his ankles and started tugging at the frayed hem of his jeans.

"Hi," he could hear her scuffing her boots on the floor. "Uhm… He's not, you know, exactly fabricating that statement."

"Oh," Soul said, "I uhm…"

"It's okay if you don't uh, ah…" she managed to turn a few shades darker again, hands fisting at her sides, "Return the sentiment."

Soul saw what was happening here, and as much as he wanted to continue the trend of being unnecessarily verbose, Maka had just more or less admitted to thinking he was attractive and he was having trouble producing words that weren't mere vowel sounds.

"Ah, uhm… I… uh," Soul swallowed thickly, Maka's too green eyes burning against his Adam's apple.

"Nevermind," she said, turning away. If her voice cracked, Soul thought she might rather he didn't comment on the fact. "What can I help you with?"

She might not have any books on the shelves yet, but those cardboard boxes probably weren't labelled 'BOOKS' in large permanent letters for nothing.

Somewhere in the back of his throat Soul found words, but they weren't exactly the ones he was looking for.

"This Was The End," the words fell out of his mouth, "I uh, my nephew…"

Maka ripped open one of the boxes with a good deal more force than necessary, especially if she wanted to consider reusing the boxes, and thrust the first instalment in his direction without looking up. It was secondhand, a little boxed around the edges.

Soul smelt it, fluttering the pages in front of his nose. He didn't get reading himself, but he knew the smell was important. It smelled like every other book that's been sitting in a box with its fellows probably smelled- a little musty, but not wholly unpleasant.

"How much?"

She didn't answer, and Soul put ten dollars on a shelf. The Little Grey Cat suddenly found his exceptionally stumpy legs no obstacle when it came to climbing the self and batting the bill to the floor in record time. Soul stared as the bill drifted slowly to the floor.

"Ow! Fuck!"

The Little Grey had jumped and landed, claws out, to cling to Soul's thigh.

Maka snorted, and broke out into laughter as Soul tried to extract the stubborn cat. This endeavour, was neither successful nor painless. Blood was drawn, and it wasn't the cat's.

"He likes you," Maka said. "Oni doesn't like anyone."

"I'd hardly describe this as a display of affection," Soul held the cat by the scruff of the neck while he unhooked the claws at the end of his stumpy legs from his flesh. The holes in his favourite jeans were emphasized by spots of blood. It looked black on the dark fabric.

"Take him for a week, and if you don't like him after that..." Maka said, her deep red blush having faded to a pretty shade of pink. "Just bring him back!"

Judging by how well the little bastard could cling, bringing him back would be difficult to say the least. But if it would make her happy to have this asshole live in his apartment and chase all his wool and get it's hair on everything he owned, he'd give it a shot. Besides Oni, or whatever the little demon was called, had made Maka stop almost crying when he'd been standing there like a jerk, frozen by the confession.

Soul was at the door, old book and new cat in hand, when he finally found the words he'd been looking for.

"It wouldn't be incorrect to uh… to uh… surmise? Yeah, surmise that the, uhm, sentiment was returned," Soul said, staring out at the street in a way he hoped made him seem cool, while also hiding his glowing cheeks. "Or whatever."

He left before she could answer, hurrying out the door and nearly knocking over Black Star's ladder. He needed to go to Deathbucks, sneak a cat past Patti's watchful eye, buy a coffee and convince a New York Times Best Selling author that he'd spat coffee on that they were cool enough for him to sign this book for his favourite nephew.

And go to a pet shop.

Black Star stopped peeling away the stencil obscuring the bookshop's name and gave him the thumbs up. Soul waved his new cat at Black Star, who laughed loudly and heartily. Soul shoved the small cat into his jacket, bundling him carefully like a baby and wedging him under his arm. Other than some fairly mild complaining, and sharpening his claws against Soul's favourite rib cage, the cat was silent.

He squinted at the lettering again before heading inside Deathbucks, but he couldn't make it out.

Patti seemed surprised to see him this early, but never-the-less start concocting his beverage of the day. He marched past her, right up to Kidd, who was hunched over a typed manuscript, flipping the pages over and marking them with red pen like a teacher grading homework. He was crossing out paragraphs and scribbling in the margins on the heavy stack of pristine paper. The typewriter was pushed to the side on top of a full, fat, purple archival binder and matching hole-puncher.

"Uhm," Soul said, "Would you-?"

Patti made frantic 'do not take this course of action' gestures, slitting her hand across her throat. They were wasted on Soul, but her attempts to dissuade him from this course of action should not go unrecognised; even if they went unseen by him.

Soul held out the book, and Archimedes looked at it like he'd never seen it before in his life.

"Would I what?" Kidd looked about as confused as Soul felt.

"Sign it. For my nephew," Soul said, before adding. "Joel."

"Oh," Kidd said, "I don't sign things. It takes too long."

"He's a huge fan, it'd uh, mean a lot to him," Soul tried. He lowered the book a little.

"How old is he?"

"Uh, ten."

"Isn't that a bit young to read those?" Kidd nodded at the book like he only knew about it because it was popular. Like he'd never even read it, never mind written it.

"Doesn't stop him," Soul said, leaving out the part that Wes would kill him if he knew he was enabling his ten year old son's age inappropriate reading habits. "He won't shut up about them."

That was a little bit of a stretch, but it seemed to do the trick. Kidd wrenched the purple binder out from under his typewriter.

"Give him that," Kidd said, dumping it in Soul's arms, "And tell him to write every thought he has about it down. Personally, I find honesty of children so refreshing."

Oni yowled when Soul staggered under the unanticipated weight of the binder, he flipped open the cover.

This Was The End VI

Under that was a list of potential title for the next instalment of the series which Soul couldn't read in his eagerness to thank Kidd, who'd returned to editing his manuscript and couldn't hear him anyway.

He left the shop in a daze and Patti had to chase him down to sell him his coffee. It tasted like a s'more, but he didn't end up tasting all that much of it in the end. He needed the caffeine, but Soul was not over fond of marshmallows since breaking his high school's Chubby Bunny record by a resounding margin.

Soul was too busy wondering how the fuck he was going to explain the book to Joel, chugging scalding coffee and thinking about whether or not his new pet could hold its bladder for the journey to attempt reading the new lettering above Maka's door.

It couldn't.

The van that Soul already hated now had the added benefit of smelling like cat pee. He pulled up outside Wes's house, blocking his brother's over-priced car in the drive and making sure that Stella's minivan could get out. He liked Stella, she was practical and kind and somehow able to contain his brother's bullshit to a minimum radius. At any rate, anyone who took one for the team and got a minivan and had to carpool everyone everywhere deserved better in life than to be boxed in by Soul's shitty van.

Backpack, Devil Cat and Present That Would Firmly Cement His Position as Best Uncle Ever in had he walked up to the doorbell and rang it. On the topic of best uncle, it wasn't like he had a whole lot of competition; he'd met Stella's two brothers and they were both boring. Painfully so. They were legal advisers to casinos in the city.

Stella answered, holding one of the twins against her belly. It was facing out towards Soul and dressed in yellow. He could hear the other twin crying somewhere in the recesses of the house. Stella looked tired, modelling dark shadows under her eyes, but she smiled and pushed stray strands of dark brown hair out of her face before welcoming Soul in. It looked as though she had more stray hair than hair tucked in the ponytail at the base of her skull. The strands of hair tumbled back in front of her eyes and she huffed in irritation.

"Wes home?" Soul asked.

Stella scowled. "He's recording."

Recording meant that Stella probably hadn't spoken her husband in days. Which, seeing as the other twin seemed to be colicky, was probably grating on her last nerve. Especially if she hadn't been able to find time to play lately. Stella was a cellist, and although she wasn't as successful as her spouse, she was was still kind of a big deal.

"Me and Eileen are pretty busy, so you just make yourself at home," Stella said, "You know where everything is, don't you? Joel, Uncle Soul is here!"

Soul didn't have time to answer before his favourite nephew (and possibly his only nephew, seeing as he couldn't remember what the twins were) came charging down the stairs and knocked the wind out of him with a tackle hug. Soul ruffled his fluffy hair carefully and Joel butted his head into Soul's hand, and mussed his hair even further.

"Hey kiddo," Soul grinned, baring his teeth in a way he normally avoided. The words felt weird in his mouth, especially now that he knew a grown man who went by Kidd.

Joel didn't answer, just pushed his face further into Soul's stomach.

"Nice to see you too," Soul said, "Stella, me and Joel here are going to go have a snack."

"Is that cat?" Stella asked, indicating Oni; who had taken up residence on Soul's shoulder like some kind of parrot, and only dug his claws in when they were in transit. Soul considered this to be a marked improvement over his former status as a human scratching post."When do you get a cat?"

"About two hours ago," Soul said, "Don't tell Wes."

"Why not?"

Soul's ears reddened in response.

"Oh, I see, someone tickled your fancy?" Stella smiled. Making absurdly astute deductions was her specialty. That and early baroque. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Soul took that to mean 'I won't tell him until after you leave,' which was as good as could be expected from a couple that shared everything.

"C'mon, let's go get something to eat," Soul said, waddling in the direction of the kitchen with both a cat and a small for his age child clinging to him. "Then we can go play playstation?"

Stella smiled, but then whichever twin she was holding started crying and that was the end of that.

Joel finally detached himself when they got to the kitchen, but his hands were still flickering in excitement. He was quiet, and a little wary of the cat perched on Soul's shoulder. Joel started pulling open cupboards and piled anything that seemed to spark his interest onto the island counter-top, he was going to make a sandwich for them to share.

Joel's sandwiches were awful; he just piled everything he could find in between two slices of bread. Soul was the only person who would eat them and he suspected that it had informed his taste in coffee. But Joel had been born when Soul was still just a teenager, so he guessed that somehow he'd never grown out of that teenage boy ability to eat anything vaguely resembling edible. It had served him well all through college, ever if it had resulted in a nickname or two.

Joel cut the towering sandwich in half and slide one part over to Soul along with a large glass of water. Soul preferred not to dwell on the contents of Joel's sandwiches, instead electing to devour it before taking a long draught of ice cold water to wash it down. Wes and Stella theorized that the ice water helped numb his poor taste buds. Joel always watched him do this intently before embarking on his own sandwich.

"Black Star was asking for you," Soul said, "He called you Pianoman."

Joel had started playing the piano because of Soul, but the interest had grown to the point where the poor kid couldn't be left alone with a piano without attempting to take it apart, put it back together and tune it impeccably. This had varying degrees of practicality and applicability. If the mood took him, he would also tune Wes's entire violin collection and Stella's cellos. That mood did not take him as often as Stella and Wes would have liked.

Black Star had met Joel exactly once, when he'd spent the night at Soul's a year ago and Black Star had let himself in through a window to find the then nine year old sitting among what appeared to be the gutted remains of Soul's upright. Star attempted to start a fight and Joel attempted to dial nine-one-one and the whole thing would have been an unmitigated disaster if Soul hadn't chosen that exact second to leave the bathroom.

The peanut butter in the sandwich stuck the roof of his mouth, and he tried to work it free with his tongue while Joel ate slowly, frowning slightly at the cat on his shoulder.

"This is my cat," Soul said, plopping him on the almost counter and hoping Stella wouldn't find out. She was rather houseproud. "Oni."

Joel didn't say anything, but reached out to pet the stumpy legged demon beast. Oni purred, the sound vibrating loudly through the kitchen. He butted his head up into Joel's hand and began complaining loudly when it suddenly retracted. Soul reached across to fill the cat scratching void and the purring resumed at full force, though the fuzzy demon appeared to be checking to see if Joel was jealous.

"Hey, I uh, got you something," Soul said, hefting the binder onto the island and pushing it across to Joel. "Don't tell your Dad."

Joel's hands flitted across the binder, cataloguing each sensation it had to offer before opening it.

He opened it, then closed it and opened it again to make sure.

"You know that weird guy I was telling you about? The one who sits in the corner of the coffee shop and never, ever leaves?" Soul said, waiting a second to see if Joel was receiving any of this information. Joel nodded, hands still fluttering over the binder. He looked up but didn't make eye contact, focusing instead on Soul's mouth. "It, uh, turns out he was Archimedes Reaper, and that that's his real name."

Joel nodded again, his attention returning to the binder and he flipped slowly through the pages. He lifted the binder up and thumbed the pages, inhaling through his nose. Soul knew that the smell of books was important. He fucking knew it.

"He said he wants you to write down what you think of it," Soul said, "And he said he might even write it on the cover."

Kidd had said no such thing, but Soul didn't mind telling a little white lie to Joel, especially if it would make him happy. Besides, Kidd seemed like the kind of oddball who'd put the review of a ten year old kid with autism on the cover of his book, right above the professional literary critics opinions.

"You're on holidays soon, right? Why don't you ask your parents if you can come stay at mine in a few weeks?"

"That could be cool," Joel said, finishing the last bite of his sandwich. Joel described things as either 'cool or uncool' a habit that Soul knows he didn't just lick up off the ground.

"C'mon, let's go upstairs," Soul said, "You can read and I'll play minecraft."

Joel grabbed him by the hand and hauled Soul out of the kitchen- he barely managed to snag Oni on the way. Joel's bedroom looked like a cross between an IKEA catalogue's suggestion for a ten year old's bedroom and a nerd palace.

When Wes finally reappeared from the depths of the recording studio to knock of Joel's bedroom door, Soul was playing on Joel's too-expensive-for-a-ten-year-old desktop setup and Joel was a quarter of the way through the binder, meticulously recording his every thought, whether relevant or not on colour coded Post Notes crowded on the pages. Soul didn't know what the code was, but Joel assured him that 'any idiot could figure it out.'

Soul had 'harumph'ed good-naturedly at this, before yelping in response to the sudden appearance of Slenderman.

"Come in," Soul said, aware that Joel was too busy cataloguing his thoughts to answer. "Door's open."

"How's my little brother doing?"

Soul didn't answer. He thought it would be Stella. He'd already chewed Wes out over the phone for leasing his shop to Starbucks, and they certainly weren't on speaking terms after a betrayal of that magnitude.

A silent minute dragged past.

"Dinner arrived," Wes said. "We ordered pizza. Maggiano's Pizza."

Wes knew his brother too well.

"Can we have it in here?" Soul asked, and Joel looked up in awe like eating dinner in your room was an innovation akin to sliced bread. "We'll be really tidy."

Joel nodded enthusiastically, and whatever about saying no to the sudden recurrence of teenage Soul, it was hard to say no to a son who boasted a post-it with 'Favourite Nephew' written in Soul's scrawling handwriting on it in the middle of his forehead. Joel made his eyes as wide as they would go and cocked his head like a puppy. While it made him look rather more like a mad scientist than the 'adorable child' he was going for, it had the desired effect.

"Alright," Wes conceded. "You been working on anything lately?"

Soul knew that Wes meant music-wise, and Soul also knew that Wes could tell when he was lying, but he said no anyway.

"Suit yourself."

When Soul arrived home early Monday morning with a binder full of post-its and a disgruntled cat, Maka had finally thrown open her doors, offering the winning combination of second-hand books and gently used cats.

There was a flyer wedged in his door, announcing a meeting of members of the local business owners association. The Local Business Owners Association Of Caberallo Street was something that had theoretically been in existence since before Soul had set up shop, but he had yet to see it called into action. The meeting would be held tonight in Deathbucks and all were welcome. Items on the agenda included 'Starbucks; Friend or Foe? Hint: Foe', 'Does Anyone Know What Happened to The Living Statue That Used to Hang Out on the Corner He Was Really Hot For A Guy Painted Silver' and 'How To Raise Yelp Ratings.' After all such pressing issues had been discussed, everyone was welcome to stay and play charades.

They had also included a note that while tea and coffee would be provided, they would appreciate if someone could supply some snacks. Soul assumed this was mostly directed at Tsubaki, who would've probably brought snacks whether she was asked to or not. He also knew that the turnout would be huge, partially because Starbucks was a huge issue, but mostly because Tsubaki would be bringing snacks.

Soul shoved it into his pocket, where he hoped he would remember it later. The delivery would be here soon, and he'd have some new stock. He was therefore, pretty cheerful when he opened the door.

And that lasted all of twenty minutes before Azusa arrived, and introduced her business partner Marie as the creative mind behind the business. They had Jackie and Kim in tow, At Knit's End didn't open on Mondays. Kim seemed utterly bored by the proceedings, content to drag Jackie out into the tunnel for reasons Soul didn't want to think too hard on. Azusa's cold eyes flicked in his direction and he stood up a little straighter. Marie had a fat binder, an eye patch and a distended stomach that looked pretty near the nine month mark. She smiled warmly at him, before hefting the binder onto the table. It was even thicker than the purple one Joel had sent him home with.

Tabbed dividers sticking out the side identified each month in the year and the heavily pregnant woman flipped to August. That was barely two months away, and Soul could see why Azusa's lips were pressed so firmly together. Wedding Planning was hard, usually you were sending invitations and save the dates about now, not barely starting planning.

Soul leaning over the binder, it showed the in-season flowers, the ones that would be cheapest and most fashionable to use for the time of year. She also produced from her Filofax a booklet of what she referred to as 'colour inspiration' held together with a treasury tag. There were colour sampler cards, photos of the desert, print-outs of Instagram shots of Jackie and Kim in soft pastels. Greys, pinks, blues and corals featured prominently as well as sandy browns.

"I was thinking," Marie whispered conspiratorially, "Of dressing the bridal parties in these shades, and having beautiful bright coral bouquets!"

"Sure," Soul said, flipping through the binder, "Sounds great, and you want the centrepieces to be the same?"

"No centrepieces!" Marie frowned, "It's a very unusual ceremony that they want, all they want by way of flowers are the bouquets."

"I guess we better make sure that they're really something so," Soul said. "Do we want the bouquets to match exactly?"

"That would be so cute!" Marie squealed shrilly.

"Do you, uh, want a chair?" Soul said. He eyeballed her stomach significantly, he couldn't even see her feet. "Might be good to get off your feet."

"No thanks, but you're a sweetheart for offering, now about the bouquets, I think a really dark blue for contrast and a white accent?" Marie said, flipping pages, "For the brides anyway, and a smaller of the same for each of the bridesmaids? That is typical, but I saw the photos you have on your website, such beautiful, original work - I had no idea you were one of those Evans! Of course, not many people would have recognised the Wes Evans without his head but I knew the instant I saw the bouquets - they were featured in Premier Bride, you know and I do have an eye for that sort of thing-" she tapped the hard shell of her eyepatch and Soul snorted. "It is my line of work after all!"

"Can you keep quiet about that?" Soul said, ears burning, "I don't want people to think-"

"Of course, of course. No need to worry - your secret is safe with me!" Marie said. "You won't happen to have a professional contact number would you? Having him in my books would certainly draw in clientele with enormous upper budget limits!"

"Uh, sure," Soul said, scrawling the digits on the back of his business card. "Actually, here, have his mobile number."

Soul was not normally in the habit of giving his sought-after brother's mobile number to practical strangers, but when said brother has betrayed all your ideals to the point you consider him a brother in name only, it's perfectly acceptable to seek a little revenge. He added Wes's home phone to the business card, which was now becoming cramped, for good measure.

"How many are in the bridal party?"

"Oh, there's three in each," Marie said, "And one each for the brides, so that's…"

Eight bouquets altogether. Not as much work as a wedding should entail, and judging by how little Kim and Jackie seemed concerned with the minutiae of the ceremony, putting them together would be very simple. The worst thing that could happen with same sex weddings was the Bridezilla. People had been waiting a long time for this, and now that it was happening they either wanted it to be perfect, or they wanted it to be done really quickly in case the legal system changed its mind about the Constitutional Rights of the LGBT+ community.

It appeared that Kim and Jackie didn't give a crap either which way.

Azusa excused herself to browse the shops lining the streets and make a few business calls. It appeared that Azusa was to Marie what Harvar was to Black Star.

"Why don't you see how Spirit's little girl is doing?" Marie said, "He told me she was working somewhere along here the other night at dinner."

She stepped back to mutter something to Azusa before she left. Azusa's eyebrows lifted a fraction. She murmured something back before leaving.

Marie rubbed her belly, and adjusted her weight. Although Marie was wearing very practical, professional attire, Soul couldn't help but notice that she was wearing fur lined crocs to complete the ensemble. He hoped she was only wearing them to ease her pregnancy swollen feet.

"Are you sure you don't want a chair?"

"I'm afraid if that happens, I won't be able to get up again!" She laughed, "C'mon, let's go see what you have in the tunnel, the office could use a bouquet."

She was packing up her binder and her colour inspiration booklet.

"Hang on! Can I just-" Soul mimed taking a photograph.

Marie handed him the colour inspiration booklet, and he fanned it out, snapping a quick pic on his phone. He'd use it to find the perfect colours and flowers later, but right now it was time to loudly announce his intention to go into his own tunnel and pray to whatever gods were in charge of this sort of thing that Marie did not go into labour in his shop.

When Soul walked into Deathbucks just a few minutes late, it was already more crowded than Soul had ever seen it. Of course, Soul made a point to go when he thought it would be the least busy, so he would have to interact with a minimum of people. Tsubaki was unpacking a large box of cookies that about three-quarters of the room were staring covetously at, and Black Star was trying to make his antics seem endearing.

If the soft smile on her face was anything to go by, he was not unsuccessful in his endeavours.

Kilik was trying to get the twins to sit quietly and draw in a corner, and Liz was staring unabashedly at his ass while she, Patti and the other baristas hurriedly brewed enough of the house special tea and coffee for everyone. Kidd was seated in his unusual booth, looking around in some confusion at the unexpected masses. Soul had his binder tucked under his arm along with a packet of Oreos he picked up from the store before coming here. He dumped them unceremoniously on the table where Tsubaki was setting up. No doubt they would be ignored in favour of whatever she had made- holy shit it was her You Wanna Piece Of This peanut butter cookies. They had Reese's Pieces as chips and they always sold out at noon on weekends.

Soul grabbed one as he passed, they were going to clear out quickly and damned if he was going to lose out. Tsubaki must have made this batch special, but her modesty would prevent her from realizing their value to the amassed shop-owners. He cradled it in his hand, no sense it getting it crushed before he had the chance to taste it.

"Hey Kidd," Soul said, startling the author from his appraisal of the crowd. Soul had to wonder why he was even still here. The meeting was taking place after hours and Kidd wasn't a member of the Local Business Owners Association of Caberallo Street. It was like Liz and Patti had forgotten to send him home.

"Oh, hello Soul," Kidd replied "Please, have a seat."

Soul shrugged, and went to move some of the empty disposable cups out of the way.

"Don't!" Kidd protested, "I mean, I'll do it."

He frowned at the perfectly straight row of cups for a minute – Soul counted eight – before deciding that stacking them into one another was the best course of action. Kidd moved quickly and precisely, stacking them from the outside in simultaneously until he had two stacks of four. He rose and tossed them into the trash, before returning to sit opposite Soul.

"Did you ever play Speed Stacking?" Soul said. "You'd be good at it."

Kidd politely admitted his ignorance to the game and Soul used his data rather than chance attempting to connect to Deathbucks questionable wifi network to show him a YouTube video. Kidd watched intently, but showed no real interest in the video.

Soul tucked his phone back into the pocket from whence it came and passed the heavy binder over to Kidd.

"This is yours, I believe," Soul said, "Also I told him you might put something he said on the cover, but-"

"That's a wonderful idea Soul!" Kidd said, "But my publishers probably need his parents' permission."

"I can get that," Soul said, after all, what was a little signature forgery between brothers? "Is there a release form or something Wes needs to sign?"

The bell jingled and Soul looked up, even though the meeting hadn't even started, he wanted to see who was even later than him. It was Maka, looking tired from her big opening day. Soul raised his hand to call her over, and she broke out into a wide smile and practically skipped over.

She slid into the booth beside him, probably sitting a little closer than necessary. Soul couldn't find it in himself to complain.

"Is that one of Tsubaki's You Wanna Piece Of Me cookies?" she asked, not bothering to say hi.

"Yeah," Soul said, "And it's mine. Go get your own."

Maka craned her neck to look at the snack table. It was picked clean of any and all homemade baked goods. A lone package of Oreos rolled like tumbleweed across the dessert wasteland.

"There aren't any left,"

"Go get us some tea, then we'll talk," Soul smirked. Maka pinked at the sight of his dangerous looking teeth.

"Fine," She blew her bangs out of her face in irritation. "Would you like anything, uh…"

"Archimedes," Kidd said.

"Like the mathematician?" Maka smiled. "And the author?"

Soul snorted, and tried fake coughing to cover it up. Maka looked at him with concern, ready to leap into action and perform the Heimlich if necessary.

"Very much like the author, and I'd much rather you called me Kidd," He offered her a hand to shake. "I don't need anything to drink, thank you very much for the offer."

"Are you sure?" She said, "It's no trouble,"

"Positive, I've already had eight."

Maka smiled, before batting her way to the counter that was lined with cups of tea and coffee.

Kidd opened the binder and took note of all the sticky notes poking out the sides, colour coded system still unapparent to Soul. Kidd's eyes widened and Soul bit back a grin. Joel had gone through that binder meticulously and jotted down every thought however relevant, highlighting lines and numbering each sticky note and even in some cases referring back to other notes at times.

Kidd would have his work cut out for him reading through that. He didn't appear upset, if the sudden light in his eyes was anything to go on. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, if that Christmas morning had suddenly and unexpectedly arrived in June.

"How old did you say your nephew as?"

"Ten," Soul shrugged, "He's a big fan."

"And you, did you help him?"

Soul shook his head. Kidd flipped open the first page and glanced through it. He looked like he was about to start babbling about Joel's organizational skills and his valued opinion when he was interrupted by Maka sliding into place beside Soul and offering him a cup of tea.

Well, it was more like she withheld the cup of tea until he broke the cookie in half and gave her a piece.

By this team everyone had settled down and the meeting opened.

"Okay," Liz said, ever the business woman. She was holding a stack of flashcards and trying not to glance down at them too much as she read. "Starbucks is bad, not only for our business but for most of yours as well. Patti and I used to work there, in the busiest branch in Brooklyn. There's a reason we named our store Deathbucks, and it's not 'cause we liked the place. It was awful, apart from the healthcare. Anyway, 'point is - the vast majority of our income comes from rush hour sales. Fully staffed Starbucks can churn out coffees twice as fast as we can, and at rush hour, when people are in a hurry where do you think they'll go?"

The obvious answer hung in the air and Soul wasn't the only person to glance out the window at the under construction corporate monster of Greek legend. It was dark out and he couldn't actually see it, but the thought was there. The fact that he couldn't see was a little scarier than when he could. What if it moved or something?

"Starbucks have their own brand of pastries and cookies, too, which means the almost sixty percent customer drop we can expect during rush hour will seriously affect Tsubaki's business too."

Tsuabki was the big draw for the street. Everyone knew that, even if Tsuabki denied it fervently. She was in all the tourist brochures for Death City, Lonely Planet had her pegged as the best bakery in a three state radius and her Yelp ratings were off the charts. If you were planning a road trip, her bakery was the detour you should take. Her Facebook page was closing in on a million likes. Deathbucks was a close second; drawing in the hipster population of the city, those who had nowhere else to turn for locally owned coffee shops but it certainly didn't draw tourists and people from out of state to their doors.

If Deathbucks fell, so would Get Baked and after that they were all doomed.

"So we're asking each business to pledge an incentive to encourage customers to stay with Deathbucks," Liz said. The flashcards hung limp and forgotten in her hand. "We have some of our own plans in mind, like encouraging arson and advertising the fact we have year round pumpkin spice lattes-"

An unexpected cheer went up around the room.

"But we ask that you each come up with an incentive for customers with a Deathbucks loyalty card with, say, ten or more stickers on it, to trade in for a discount and maybe advertise it under some kind of 'Fuck Off Starbucks' slogan" Liz glanced down at the flashcards in her hand. "Patti's going to pass around a sheet of paper and sign it if you are ready to commit to this. Every card you can bring is will get you a free drink."

"If you need some time to think over it, that's fine, just come in and ask Patti for the sheet when you're ready."

The sheet landed in-front of Soul, a half dozen names already scribbled on it.

He added his name, he was doing well. He could afford to give ten percent of fresh bouquets or something. He'd work it out later and make a sign for the window.

Maka frowned at it, he could tell she wanted to help, but she was just getting started. She wasn't in as secure a position as him. She chewed the end of the pen for a moment before signing. She didn't have to offer much, just something to show she was on their side.

She offered the pen and paper to Kidd who looked baffled for a moment, before accepting them and quickly passing them on.

"Aren't you going to-?"

"I'm not a shopkeeper."

"Oh, what is it you do then?"

"Something else entirely."

Maka huffed and Soul excused himself to go to the bathroom before he pissed himself while Liz opened the floor to the debate on the Living Statue.

Please R&R